


You're not a man for them

by tigriswolf



Series: meme fics [10]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-15
Updated: 2011-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:52:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s pretty sure everyone thinks he’s mute, when they notice him at all.  He hasn’t spoken at school, except to Brad, in six years, not since Ms. Hollander told him – in front of the entire seventh grade – that boys shouldn’t screech like that.  [AU where Kurt never joined New Directions]</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're not a man for them

**Author's Note:**

> Title: You’re not a man for them  
> Fandom: Glee  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Sandra Cisneros  
> Warnings: AU; Kurt&Blaine are the same age  
> Pairings: Blaine/Kurt, Finn/Rachel, Burt/Carole  
> Rating: PG  
> Wordcount: 2450  
> Point of view: third  
> Note: I am not a music person. I am fluent in a single language (though, I can read a smidge in another). I have no idea how realistic this is. I also don’t care. It was fun to write.  
> Prompt:
> 
> Kurt never joined glee. He may not have auditioned, but he's still part of all the commotion (Maybe he's the piano player, or Brad's student? Somehow he's involved, just not singing). He doesn't think he's a good singer, so he didn't want to embarrass himself by auditioning. The reason he doubts his singing voice? At some point before Glee, somebody told him he sounds horrible, and that shot his confidence.
> 
> Imagine the club's surprise when that quiet kid, who's just always there, is caught singing beautifully.
> 
> -Definitely want angst on Kurt's part, about his singing and utter lack of confidence.
> 
> Bonus: You somehow fit Blaine in!

 

Whenever Kurt has to escape, he goes to a coffee shop two hours away from Lima.  He makes a day of it, bringing whatever his current novel is, usually in French, Spanish, or German; his most-recent, least-filled sketchbook; and his composing notebook.  He isn’t sure if music or fashion will get him out of Lima, but right now, he loves them equally.

Brad assures him he’s an amazing pianist, and almost as good with the violin and cello.  He explained it to Dad once: the piano is French, a language Kurt could speak practically from the cradle.  Mom taught it to him right alongside English when he was still toddling around and he didn’t know not every kid could speak both (and play the piano) until much later.  By the time he met Brad, he was fluent in French and the piano.  But the violin and cello are like Spanish and German.  He’s good at them, one moreso than the other, but it’s not as easy and he doesn’t enjoy them quite as much.  
   
The piano and French are his mother, his past.  He thinks fashion might be his future, his ticket away from Lima for good.   
   
As high-school progresses, Brad lets Kurt play most of the glee club’s music so he can focus on his other students.  The club never seems to notice the band, but that’s fine.  Kurt is invisible at McKinley: he wears boring clothes he can _feel_ eating his soul, he never talks except at his music lesson (which, more and more, is Brad telling him to let loose and play whatever he wants), and he always sits in the back.  He’s at the top of the class, not that anyone cares, but grades are just another way to get out.  
   
He’s pretty sure everyone thinks he’s mute, when they notice him at all.  He hasn’t spoken at school, except to Brad, in six years, not since Ms. Hollander told him – in front of the entire seventh grade – that boys shouldn’t screech like that.  He’d been shocked, and hurt, and at a loss.  
   
Mom had told him he sounded like an angel.  Dad always said, “Soundin’ good, kid,” when he heard Kurt and Mom singing together.  
   
But Mom died, so Dad had to work more, and so Kurt still played the piano but he never sang except at home, and even there, it was rare.  
   
He just wants to slip under the radar and get out.  New York or Los Angeles, fashion or music or both.  He has dozens of sketchbooks full of outfits he wishes he could wear and a thousand melodies he wishes he had the words to match.  
   
And now he’s a senior.  One year left.  He’s applied to over twenty schools, up and down the east and west coasts, and his freedom is so close he can taste it.  
   
.  
   
Dad started dating a woman named Carole over a year ago.  She brought her car into the garage and the rest is history.  Her son is on the football team and the male lead in New Directions.  He seems like a nice guy, if a little… dim.  His voice is pleasant enough, and he’s always polite to Kurt.  He was shocked when he saw Kurt at the piano during glee, though.  Like he’d never noticed Kurt before.  
   
That wouldn’t be surprising.  
   
.  
   
One Saturday, Kurt is halfway through _Don Quixote_ – in Spanish – and eating a blueberry muffin.  His sketchbook is open to his designs for the glee club’s outfits for Sectionals, Regionals, and Nationals, if they make it.  His composing notebook is facedown on ‘Nightingale Silenced,’ a tune he’s been working on for six years.  
   
The coffee shop is full, not a single empty chair except for the one across from him.  He’s so caught up in his book that he only notices someone has sat down at his table when the boy clears his throat.  
   
Kurt looks up.  “Oh, sorry,” he says, setting the book down to gather up his belongings, giving the boy room to set down his coffee and chocolate chip cookie.  
   
“It’s fine,” the boy says.  “I should have asked.  You might have been waiting for someone.”  
   
Kurt shakes his head.  “I wasn’t.”  He stacks the sketchbook and notebook, putting _Don Quixote_ on top, and the boy whistles.  
   
“In Spanish?” he says.  “Impressive.”  He holds out a hand.  “I’m Blaine.”  
   
“Kurt,” Kurt says.  “I’m pretty much fluent in Spanish, so I’m just keeping up practice.  
   
“Well, that’s better than me,” Blaine says, breaking off a piece of his cookie.  “I’m barely halfway conversational in Italian.”  
   
Kurt smiles, caressing the cover of _Don Quixote_.  “You should find an Italian copy of your favorite book or a magazine you like.”  He looks up; Blaine quickly averts his gaze and Kurt doesn’t dare let himself hope.  “That’s what I did for German,” he finishes.  Dad’s parents had been fluent, second-generation Americans, both of them, but Dad hasn’t spoken to either of them in thirty years and he never speaks the little German he still knows.  Kurt wanted to learn the language anyway.  
   
Blaine pauses with some cookie halfway to his mouth and lowers his hand.  “You’re fluent in Spanish _and_ German?”  
   
“And French,” Kurt says.  “I grew up speaking that one, though, so I don’t think it counts.”  
   
Blaine shakes his head. “Four languages? Now I feel inadequate.”  
   
Kurt laughs.  Blaine smiles at him, and then past him.  “Wes, David!” he says.  “We’ll have to move our meeting somewhere else.”  He gestures to the café around them.  “As you can see, the place is too busy.”  
   
Two boys stop next to the table.  “It’s not normally like this,” the black one says.  
   
“David,” Blaine says.  “Wes.  This is Kurt.  He was kind enough to let me interrupt his language studies.”  
   
“I hope Blaine wasn’t too much of a distraction,” Wes says.  
   
“Not at all,” Kurt answers.  
   
Blaine smiles again.  “Would you like to meet next week?” he asks.  “Same time, same place?”  
   
Kurt stares at him.  “Su-sure,” he says.  “I’ll be here.”  
   
Blaine grabs the one pencil Kurt had left out and jots down a number on a napkin.  “Here,” he says, setting it on Kurt’s book.  “If you have any more Italian tips for me.”  He holds out his hand and Kurt lifts his to clasp it.  “It was wonderful to meet you, Kurt.”  
   
“You, too, Blaine,” he says, nodding to Wes and David as they head out.  
   
He watches Blaine, trying to strangle his hope.  No one’s ever flirted with him before.  He’s always been invisible.  Even now, in the safety of a coffee shop two hours from home, he’s wearing a boring black shirt and boring blue jeans.  
   
He doesn’t read any more of _Don Quixote_ that morning.  Instead, he sketches out a week’s worth of outfits for Blaine and he writes a new melody he optimistically titles ‘A Door Opens.’  
   
Kurt leaves three hours later.  He promised he’d be home to hear a huge announcement from his dad and Carole before their dinner date at a fancy restaurant.  Dad rarely does fancy, so it’s obvious what the announcement is.  
   
It’s a complete non-surprise when Carole bursts into Dad’s rambling speech to say, “We’re getting married!”  
   
Kurt smiles and says, “Congratulations!”  
   
Finn looks shell-shocked.  
   
Dad can’t stop grinning.  
   
.  
   
Dad and Carole want a small, low-key wedding.  Kurt’s playing around with the ending of  ‘Nightingale Silenced' and waiting for glee to start when Finn tells everyone their parents are engaged and his mother wants kickass music, but he doesn’t know what to do.  
   
“How about us?” asks Rachel Berry, the diva of the club.  “We could use this as further practice.”  
   
Finn lights up.  “That’s an awesome idea!”  
   
.  
   
The wedding is three weeks away.  It’ll be on a Friday, then Dad and Carole will be on the way to Hawaii for eight days.   
   
Kurt will be in charge of the house.  Finn is told only to look after his brother.  
   
.  
   
Kurt goes to the coffee shop and sits at the same table at the same time, and orders himself not to hope.  
   
Blaine sits across from him and says, “Hey.”  
   
Kurt can’t control his grin; after a moment, he doesn’t try.  
   
.  
   
A month after the wedding, Kurt asks Blaine, “Would you like to get dinner sometime?”  
   
“Of course,” Blaine says.  “How about tomorrow night?”  
   
They’ve talked about everything – school, music, dreams, hopes, and fears.  Blaine is the lead singer and one third of the Council of New Directions’ competition, goes to an expensive all-boys boarding school, and hasn’t seen his parents in over a year.  He’s handsome, charming, and gay.  
   
He’s not invisible.  He was bullied out of a one school and rules another.  Singing is a hobby of his, but he wants to be pediatrician.  
   
“How about I pick you up?” Blaine asks.  “I’d really like to hear you on the piano.”  He hesitates, looking away.  “I… I wrote you a song.  To play, I mean.”  He hurries to add, “I’m better at words than music, so I thought, maybe, you could play what sounds good with the words.  You know?”  
   
Kurt stares at him.  “You wrote me a song?”  Blaine nods.  Kurt can’t help but laugh, and when Blaine looks up, hurt, Kurt says, “No, no, it’s just –”  He pulls out what he’s taken to calling his Blaine-book.  “Look through it.”  
   
The Blaine-book is full of sketches for Blaine and ‘A Door Opens’ and other songs.  
   
“All of this,” Blaine asks.  “It’s for me?”  
   
Kurt nods.  Blaine smiles and walks around the table to kiss Kurt soundly on the lips.  
   
.  
   
Finn has Rachel over Sunday afternoon.  They’re up in his room when Blaine arrives; Dad is dealing with an emergency involving one his (ex)workers skimming off the top and Carole is out with a friend.  
   
Kurt hasn’t told any of them about Blaine.  Why would he?  He barely talks anyway.   
   
But now Blaine is at his house, kissing him, pressing him against the front door, and _wow_.  No wonder the kids in glee are always making out.  
   
Once Blaine pulls back and they both catch their breath, Kurt takes his hand and leads him to the den.  The piano is in the corner, the violin and cello on stands next to it.  
   
“Let me guess,” Blaine says.  He points to the piano and says, “French.”  Kurt nods.  “So the violin is… Spanish and the cello German?”   
   
Kurt nods again.  He sits on the bench and pulls Blaine down beside him.  “Give me the words,” he says.  
   
Blaine looks more nervous than Kurt’s seen him before.  He unfolds a sheet of notebook paper and puts it on the piano.  Kurt quickly looks over the first couple stanzas.  He begins playing what he thinks fits and nudges Blaine.  
   
“Sing,” he whispers.  
   
Blaine nods, licks his lips, and starts softly, “I thought I was alone, always lookin’ in through the window, wonderin’ what was so wrong with me.  Why couldn’t I have what everyone had?  Holdin’ hands, walkin’ down the hall – what’s so wrong with that?”  
   
He gently elbows Kurt and hums along with the piano, so Kurt takes a deep breath and sings for the first time in two years.  
   
“What’s so wrong with that?”  He’s hesitant, barely more than a murmur.  He focuses on his music, letting his voice follow.  “I only want what everyone has, the warmth and camaraderie.  I want laughter and arms to hold me tight.  Tell me – why is that too much to ask?  Tell me, please.”  He lets his voice soar, going higher than he thought it could, way past what Ms. Hollander called a screech.  “What’s so wrong with that?”  
   
Blaine is staring at him.  He ignores that, and a thud from upstairs, to keep playing.  Blaine gets the message and continues.  
   
“Punch me and kick me, slam me down.  I’ll rise stronger, determined to win.  I’ll find a boy one day and he’ll take my hand.  We’ll stand and we’ll dance and we’ll love ‘til death takes away all we have.”  
   
Kurt sings along with him, “I’ll find a boy one day and he’ll take my hand.”  Blaine lets his voice fade while Kurt’s strengthens, repeating, “He’ll take my hand.  We’ll stand and we’ll dance; we’ll dance till the end.”  
   
He plays for a few moments.  Blaine sings softly, “Tell me why that’s so wrong. Tell me why I should be afraid and so alone.”  Kurt adds, “Why I should look through the window – why do I have to be alone?”  
   
They finish together, “I’ll find a boy and he’ll take my hand and we’ll dance.  We’ll dance till the dancin’s done.  We’ll dance.”  
   
Kurt plays for a few minutes more and then his fingers still.  
   
He glances over.  Blaine’s staring again.  “Was… did I sound okay?” he asks, looking at his hands.  “I… I haven’t sung in awhile.  At all.”  
   
“Kurt,” Blaine says seriously.  “I would not be surprised if angels sound like you.”  He reaches over and cups Kurt’s cheek with his hand.  Kurt lifts his hand to cover Blaine’s, leaning forward to kiss him.  
   
They only realize someone else is in the room when Rachel Berry demands, “What was that?”  
   
Blaine pulls back, turning.  Kurt sighs.  
   
“I heard singing,” Rachel continues.  Finn is staring at them, eyes darting back and forth.  
   
“Hi, I’m Blaine,” Blaine says, standing and walking over, hand outstretched.  “I’m – a friend of Kurt’s.”  
   
“A friend who kisses?” Finn asks.  
   
“Rachel Berry,” Rachel says, shaking Blaine’s hand.  “Who was singing?”  
   
“Well, we were,” Blaine says. “I wrote the words, Kurt the music.”  He looks back at Kurt.  “It seemed familiar.”  
   
Kurt nods.  The first few notes were new; the rest was ‘A Door Opens.’  His Blaine-theme.  
   
Finn grabs Blaine’s hand and shakes it hard.  “I’m Finn, his big brother.  How long have you been kissing-friends?”  
   
Rachel steps around Blaine, eyes wide as she gapes at Kurt.  “You… _you_ can sing like _that_?  Why didn’t you join glee!?”  
   
He turns back to the piano, shrugging.  “I play music,” he says quietly, grabbing Blaine’s song.  “I design clothes.  I don’t sing.”  He looks back in time to see three shocked expressions, and if he wasn’t so embarrassed, he might’ve laughed.  
   
“You… you don’t _sing_?” Rachel asks after a moment.  “Why _not_?”  
   
Kurt looks at Blaine.  Blaine says, “We have places to be.”  He smiles at Rachel and Finn.  “It was wonderful to meet both of you.”  
   
Rachel opens her mouth again - to protest, Kurt is sure - but Blaine just smiles at Kurt and holds out a hand.  
   
Kurt laughs, taking it, humming as Blaine murmurs, “I’ll find a boy and he’ll take my hand and we’ll dance.” 


End file.
